PS 1669 











<*. 




















'^'^ cy ^'"'^fe'- '^ A^ ^'-^ 






PHOTO BY 

KOHLER, 

PASADENA. CAL 



Q.J.9uI£^n,^^ 



lYMES OF Reform 



BY 



/ 



Odell T. Fellows 



33 



i^n.T. 



PRESS OF 
CEO. A. SWERDFICER 
PASADENA, CAL. 



H-. 






1238 



Entered according to Act of Congress 
in the year 1897 by Odd I T. Feltows, in 
tlie office of t lie Librarian of Congress at 
Washington. D. C. 



Top TOnthcr. 

Sarah Palmer Weld, 

Kenduskeag, Maine. 



PREFACE. 

Not all of the contents of this little booklet can 
properly be called Reform Poems, but it is thought 
that a sufficient number of them are of that order 
to warrant the title. It is the author's first venture, 
and is offered to the public without apology, in the 
full conviction that it will meet with only the 
reception which it merits, and nothing more is desired. 
Should the result be anywise encouraging, it will 
no doubt be followed by others from tlie same source. 

O. T. F. 

Pasadena, Cal., 1897. 



INDEX. 

Pagk 
Mother's Old Wheel 5 

Turn on the Light 7 

The Present Hour 9 

Ruthless Time 10 

Sons of the Morning 11 

I May Be Wrong 13 

The Captain and Mate 14 

Conscience's Voice 16 

Henry George 17 

Pasadena IS 

My Window 21 

Christmas Greetings 22 

When We Meet Again 23 

The Song from the Casement 24 

Guardia n 25 

Anniversary of the Rochester Knockings 27 

Youth, Health and Love 30 

Day-Dreams 32 

Morning, Noon and Night 34 

The Journey of Life 35 

The Lovely Dead 37 

The Day's Advance ^8 

Dinner '"^ 

Reach Me Your Hand "12 

Spring on Santa Catalina "l"* 

Our Castle in Spain "1*^ 

Nineteen Hundred "1' 

From My Scrap-Book "^-^ 

The Angel's Visit 51 



MOTHER'S OLD WHEEL. 

Alone ill my bachelor quarters 

I wait for the coming of night; 
The walls of my "den" are gilded, 

The fire on m}^ hearth is bright. 
Success in the world of traffic, 

Has crowned my tireless zeal; 
But I hear to-night in the twilight 

The sound of mother's old wheel. 

Oh, many the days and years, 

Since this weary race begun! 
And with many a twist, the thread 

Of my life is nearly spun. 
Success is a failure mostly, 

Then blame me not if I feel 
That I hear in the winds at twilight 

The sound of mother's old wheel. 

On the well-worn floor of the kitchen 

It stood in the long ago. 
And the patient feet of the spinner 

Walked ever to and fro. 
And now as the gathering shadows 

Around my casement steal; 
There's a wail in the winds of evening 

That sounds like mother's old wheel. 



MOTHER'S OLD WHEEL. 

Oh, the threads of our lives are tangled 

And twisted in many a knot! 
But how far soever they lead us, 

There's ever a dearest spot. 
And the place and the sound I'll remember 

Till I pass to the land of the leal. 
Are the old kitchen floor of my childhood 

And the sound of mother's old wheel. 



TURN ON THE LIGHT. 

Turn on the light! 
Unto the world's awakened sight, 
Reveal the glorious heritage 
That may be ours, if we but dare 
To leave the past, the outgrown age; 
Turn to the future's virgin page, 
Inscribe the one word "Progress" there, 
And, standing forth in manhood's might, 
Turn on the light. 

Turn on the light! 
They shun it not who love the right; 
But wrong and error tlee away. 
And hide from out its living rays 
As evil things forsake the day. 
And, in their dark and devious ways, 
Their mischief plot. But all shall praise 
Brave souls, who, in the strength of right, 
Turn on the light. 

Turn on the light! 
Though envious greed, in sore affright. 
Shall tremble in her place of power; 
And vainly grasp the useless hoard 
Of ill-got wealth. This very hour 



TURN ON THE LIGHT. 

I see the threatening storm-cloud lower 
Where bread for hungry men is stored, 
And law but mocks them in their plight — 
Turn on the light. 

Turn on the light! 
Ere darkness settles into night! 

L,et not Columbia's hallowed soil, 
That holds the dust of Washington 
Who fought to free the sons of toil, 
His name forgot, his fame despoil, 
A deathless fame so nobly won! 
In his dear name, in Heaven's sight, 
Turn on the light. 



THE PRESENT HOUR. 

This is the hour that's big with fate, 
And while our hearts expectant wait 
Within the hush before the storm, 
We nurse our hope to keep it warm, — 
Our hope, well-ni.^h disconsolate. 

O darkening skies of Freedom's land, 

Be ours thy fury to command! 
Why this foreboding in the soul 
That we may view thy tempests roll 

By lightning flash and blazing brand? 

And was it this for which the}" fought. 
Who counted life as less than naught 

When human rights were trampled down? 

And unto him who wore the crown 
Said "See, oh, see thou do it not!" 

Be wise in time, O ye who take 
From Labor's meed; or ye may wake 
To hear from huts where sorrows dwell 
With rising power the chorus swell: 
"Yet once again for Freedom's sake!" 



RUTHLESS TIME. 

Now time again is at its flood, 
And great events come trooping past 
Like maskers at a carnival; 
And some we see in friendh^ guise 
And some in masks of grief and loss, 
Whose other names are joy and gain; 
And dire misfortune, which we dread. 
Like visits of the angel Death. 

Along the shore lies strewn the wrecks 
Of shattered hopes, that, putting forth 
In morning's prime, essayed in vain 
To ride upon tempestuous seas 
Without a firm and practiced hand 
To guide their bark among the shoals 
Of life, where sunken rocks lay thick. 
With jaws as cruel as death itself. 

So time flows on. With ruthless hand 
The shrinking soul is thrust aside, 
As down the teeming ways of life 
The multitude still hurries on. 
And other barks are putting forth 
Upon the voyage untried, unknown. 
And they shall suffer shipwreck, too; 
And thus till time shall be no more. 



10 



SONS OF THE MORNING. 

O sons of the morning, awake ! 

Heard ye not the loud call to the fray ? 
The forms of oppression., the slayers of right, 
That have lurked in the shadows and gloom of the night, 

They surely are passing away. 

O sons of the morning, arise ! 

The sk}' is resplendent in hue. 
Where the fields have been sown b}' the wisdom of years 
And watered and kept by humanity's tears, 

The harvest is waiting for you. 

Brave sons of the morning, we wait, 

i\nd hope lives within us again, 
That justice shall rise from the gloom of the past 
And the soul of the people be lifted at last 

From out of its travail and pain. 

Glad sons of the morning, take heart, 

Your words they are with us today, 
And they fill us with hope and with courage to fight, 
Till the hosts of oppression, the foes of the right, 

Shall be conquered forever and aye. 

11 



SONS OF THE MORNING. 

And then, O ye glorious sons 
Of a day that is dawning at last! 
Shall we bask in the light of fraternity's ray 
And the Hightmare of poverty vanish away 
Like a hideous dream that is past? 



12 



I MAY BE WRONG. 

It seems to me the day is long 

Since politicians tried to do, 
When they were sent to make the laws, 

One-half the things they promised to. 
But when it comes to making "stuff," 

They work together good and strong, 
And get themselves fixed well enough; 

But then, of course, I ma}^ be wrong. 

I can't help thinking, right or wrong, 

It's a disgrace, a lasting shame. 
When legislators play the thief. 

And call themselves another name. 
A people outraged and betrayed 

vShould make them sing a sadder song; 
Could they be stripped and whipped and flayed 

It might not be so verj' wrong. 

But be it so, I'll sing m}^ song, 

And pray the day may swiftly come 
When those who serve themselves alone, 

We shall elect to stay at home. 
When men and patriots, true and tried. 

The halls of state shall thickly throng. 
But while I pray, and hope beside, 

I may be wrong, I may be wrong. 

■ 13 



THE CAPTAIN AND MATE. 

It was night on the deep, and the waters reposed 
Like the unquiet sleeper; faint stars were disclosed 
By the rifts in the clouds which had gathered around, 
And the silence of midnight was deep and profound. 

All idly and purposeless drifted my bark 
On the face of the waters so dreary and dark; 
The fitful winds fanned me and bore me away, 
While I waited and watched for the coming of day. 

But now on my listening ear. fainth' and sweet, 
Fell the sound of an oar with its rythmical beat; 
And I saw through the gloom, with her colors on high, 
A fair goodly ship that was passing me b3^ 

Bearing straight on her course like the dread ship of fate, 
At her prow, side by side, stood the Captain and Mate; 
And I eagerly hailed from my fullness of heart, 
For I was drifting alone, without rudder or chart. 

Would they hear? Would they heed? Would they come 

to mj^ side ? 
Or leave me to drift on the waters so wide? 
I could only call loudly and breathlessly wait 
Till the answer came back from the Captain and Mate, 

14 



THE CAPTAIN AND MATE. 

And it came; and with song and with answering shout 

The ship, in the darkness of night, put about, 

And came to m}- side in response to my hail, 

And the Captain and Mate clasped my hand o'er the rail. 

And I said: "Where away through the gloom and the 

night? 
Is the haven ahead? Is the harbor in sight? 
Is there land in the distance? Oh, tell me I pray. 
Is the night nearly gone? Is there sign of the day?" 

Then they answered me calmly: "The night speeds away; 
We behold in the east the faint flush of the day. 
We have come from the west where the shadows are born. 
And we sail to the east, to the land of the morn. " 

They were off and away toward the dim distant land. 
And I, seizing an oar with a resolute hand, 
Followed fast in their wake with a confident stroke, 
Until soon, o'er the waters, the rising day broke. 

And we entered the harbor, and soft was the breeze, 
And before was the land with its flowers and trees, 
With the songs of sweet birds and music of rills. 
And the bluest of skies o'er the greenest of hills. 

Now the anchor I cast in the harbor of rest, 

In the sight of the land, the bright land of the blest; 

No longer to drift, or to hopelessly wait. 

For I'm guided to port by the Captain and Mate. 

15 



CONSCIENCE'S VOICE. 

Like the water's rythmic flow 
Underneath the ice and snow, 
Conscience's voice doth whisper low 

'Tis the power that in us lies 
From the old estate to rise, 
Phoenix-like to fairer skies. 

By this light that burns within, 
Seek each soul-destroying sin — 
Self-approval seek to win. 

Not by dra.uging others down 
Shall we gain the victor's crown, 
Rich reward or great renown. 

Not by stalking through the land 

With iconoclastic hand. 

Smiting all the shrines that stand. 

But b}' love we bear the new, 
By the god-like will to do; 
Cherishing the good and true. 

By the light that gilds the skies, 
Brighter where our pathway lies. 
By the faith that never dies. 



HENRY GEORGE. 

Upoti his bed in painless sleep 
He resteth now, he resteth well, 

While i^rateful hearts his memor}' keep 
And lovin.^ lips his praises tell. 

So well he strove for truth and right, 

For justice to the toiling one, 
That, though his face be lost to sight, 

His words shall live till time is done. 

No despot, seated on the throne, 

But blanched with fear to hear his voice; 

He bade the wrong be overthrown; 
He bade the hopeless one rejoice. 

F'or right, he said, should win the day, 
Though long delayed by selfish greed; 

The good time, once so far away, 
Since he has lived, is near, indeed. 

So at the front he bravely fell; 

Oh, glorious fate! Oh, happy lot! 
'Tis well, ye struggling ones, 'tis well! 

For Henry George is not forgot. 



17 



PASADENA. 

Pasadena! have you seen her, 
Fairest maid beneath the sun? 

With the sea of bloom about her, 
Where the tides of summer run? 

Waves of perfume and of color 
Roll upon the magic strand; 

While the mountains, grim and statel}^ 
As a guard around her stand. 

Pasadena! I have seen her 
With the glory on her brow, 

And the vision of her splendor 
lyingers in my memory now. 

With the light of joy around her. 
With a smile upon her face, 

Bearing balm of health and healing 
For the children of the race. 

Fairer palaces than ever 

Graced the hills of classic Greece, 
Testify to grand achievements 

In the arts of love and peace. 



18 



PASADENA. 

Fountains play in shady bowers, 
Fruits hang ripening in the sun, 

Whispering leaves and smiling flowers 
Welcome speak to every one. 

Not the poor and not the needy 
In those bowers of beauty dream; 

Nay, there are no poor and needy 
In this city of my dream. 

All the want and all the sorrow 
That our hearts congeal today, 

In the warmth of love fraternal, 
Have forever passed away. 

Oh, for words to paint it truly! 

Oh, for painter's brush to limn! 
Ere the vision fade forever 

From my memory faint and dim. 

And I see arise before me 

Pictures full of shame and dread. 
Where, within a land of plenty. 

Men and women want for bread. 

Build, O brothers, firm and lasting, 
Build beside the living stream. 

Build upon the rock of ages. 
Build the city of my dream! 

19 



PASADENA. 

lyCt me see its towers arising 

Where the plain and mountain and meet; 
Singing grove and peaceful grotto 

Haste, Oh hasten to complete! 

For the world is sick witli waiting; 

Brotliers perish day by day; 
Build, Oh build the promised city, 

Do not, do not long dela}^ 

Let mine eyes behold the glory 

Of this earthly paradise; 
They will gladly close forever 

When tliat blessed morn shall rise. 



20 



MY WINDOW. 

When care weighs down my troubled soul, 

I seek this sheltered seat, 
"When passions wild brook no control," 

Let this be my retreat. 

Perhaps a memory clings around 

This spot so strangely dear, 
Perhaps I hold it hallowed ground 

For those who've lingered here. 

Roll, queenly Moon, more softly roll, 

Above this holy place: 
Beam calmly on this troubled soul, 

I love thy pitying face. 

Hast thou not seen what other e^'es 

Will never, never see? 
Hast thou not seen, in mortal guise. 

An angel here with me? 

Hast thou not seen, but lisp it not. 

While countless seasons run, 
"Two souls with but a single thought, 

Two hearts that beat as one ? ' ' 



21 



CHRISTMAS GREETINGS 

From the land of flowers with hand and heart, 

I greet you, friend, this Christmas night. 
Though fate decreed that we should part, 
Your face from out the past will start 
To keep your mem.ory ever bright. 

By the cheerful hearthfire's rudd}' glow 

I see you sit in glowing light. 
Under the boughs of mistletoe, 
Where laughing faces come and go, 

Yours I see, this Christmas night. 

Mine the path in suiniier climes. 

Beneath the skies of sunset light; 
But still I hear the merry chimes. 
And think of friends of those old times. 
And wish them joy this Christmas night. 



22 



WHEN WE MEET AGAIN. 

Last night I looked from out my door, 

The slumbrous moon was past its full; 
vStrange shapes of clouds sailed slow before, 

Like voyaging ships, with sail and hull 
Distinct outlined on night's broad sea, 

And somehow, cloud and moon and sky, 
With subtle charm brought back to me 

Another night long since gone b}'. 

The old year languished; calm and still 

The orange groves in fragrance slept; 
The moon had climbed the distant hill 

And o'er the u'orld its radiance swept. 
The lights shone out from windows near, 

The stars came forth from heaven afar, 
But what, to e^'es that beamed so clear, 

Were tlickering lamp or twinkling star? 

O night, sweet night, without the glare 

And dust of noon, or busy strife! 
When cool winds fan the brow of care. 

And grace and beauty hallow life. 
Pass not, sweet hour, too swiftly by, 

But may we find surcease of pain, 
And gaze upon that moon and skj^ 

When, soul to soul, we meet agrin. 

23 



THE SONG FROM THE CASEMENT. 

I listened and lingered long- 
To a sound that floated afar, 

To the sad, sweet words or a song 
And the notes of a throbbing guitar. 

Till the tremulous chords had died 
On the evening drear and chill; 

Till the last faint echo replied. 
And all was solemn and still. 

But the ravishing strains I heard 

Are echoing still in m}^ soul; 
Sweeter than song of a bird 

Burst forth beyond control. 

Oh, singer with voice divine! 

Your song, it was not for me; 
But I praise you, the song is mine, 

Whoever, wherever you be. 

In the evening drear sing out, — 

In the night through dark and rain; 

Some soul in the gloom without 
Shall hear that heavenly strain. 

For never a song was sung 

But formed of the life a part. 
No matter how winning the tongue, 

'Tis the song that reaches the heart. 
24 



GUARDIAN. 

She found me wanderiiii; lone and tar, 
When da}- was late and winds were chill. 

When frowning skies revealed no star 
To guide my steps o'er bare bleak hill, 

Or wind-swept plain, where bush and scaur 
My terrors mocked with echoes shrill. 

I heard the distant ocean rear 
In endless grief on its wild shore, 

And o'er my head, tierce birds of prey. 

With hoarse cries, mourned the dying day 
When lo! she came, the radiant one, 

With smiles of morning on her face. 
And, like the glorious risen sun. 

Her presence lighted all the place. 

The shadows fled, the new light broke. 
From doubt and fear my soul awoke: 
No more dismayed by frowning skies, 
Or sea-birds harsh, discordant cries, 

For as the wind of morning blows 
From out the east new glories rise. 

But never stars in heaven rose 
That matched the splendor of her eyes, 



25 



GUARDIAN. 

And since one word from those sweet lips, 
I fear no more night's dark eclipse. 

Though winds may rave and oceans roar, 
Thougli stars may set to rise no more, 

The ways we tread through seeming niglit 
Are but as pathways toward the light. 

No shore so lone, no land so drear, 
But guardian ones are hovering near; 
No gloom so deep, no plain so wide, 
That man from his own soul may hide. 

L,ook up, sad one, when fears dismay. 

When naught but gloom around thee lies! 

It is thy great, thy glorious day. 
When o'er its ills thy soul may rise. 

'Twas given thee to suffer long, 

But grand the meed bj^ suiFering brought: 
To rise triumphant over wrong, 

And reach the goal which thou hast sought. 



26 



ANNIVERSARY OF THE ROCHESTER 
KNOCKINGS. 

Once again the rolling season 

Brings the promise of the spring; 
Once again, beneath tlie starlight. 

Do we hear the angels sing, 
As thej^ sang in days departed 

Heralding the Savior's birth, 
So, tonight, in joy proclaiming 

Many saviors to the earth. 

Savijig from the sin and sorrow, 

From the woe of blindness born, 
Leading souls from out the darkness, 

Guiding to the glorious morn. 
Ivo! it breaks, the day of promise. 

Higher mounts the sun of truth. 
And the soul of man, awaking, 

Revels in eternal youth. 

Long the night of watching, waiting. 

For a symbol or a sign 
From the land of the immortals, 

From the spheres of life divine. 
And it came; the hour propitious, 

Fate no longer could defer; 
'Twas the timid knock that sounded 

In that home in Rochester. 



ANNIVERSARY OF ROCHESTER KNOCKINGS. 

Fainth' knocking at the portal 

Ot the crumbling house of clay, 
Knocking till the stone of error 

From the tomb is rolled awa}^; 
And the Lord of lyife arising 

Walks in beauty forth again, 
Bearing proofs of life immortal 

To the waiting sons of men. 

Want and sorrow, clothed in tatters. 

Crouch and wait beside our door; 
Sin and suffering, boon companions. 

Haunt the dwellings of the poor. 
But the dawn of hope draws nearer 

For the outcast and forlorn; 
Doubt no more enshrouds the future. 

On this day the truth was born. 

Through the ways of doubt and error 

Groped we in the misty past, 
Hoping, struggling and despairing, 

'Mong the shadows deep and vast; 
Baffled b}^ the hordes of evil. 

Overthrown b}^ wrong and ill. 
Yet o'er all the god-like spirit 

Rises, and is living still. 

lyiving to subdue and conquer 

Every vile, unworthy thing. 
Every thought that, born of evil, 

Lifts its head to strike and sting; 

28 



ANNIVERSARY OF ROCHESTER KNOCKINGS. 

Crush it out, the selfish motive, 

'Neath the heel of self-control; 
Straitway build upon the ruins. 

Fairer structures for the soul. 

Hark! that knock tonight is sounding, 

Knocking, knocking, yet again, 
Seeking to reveal the message 

lyong withheld from dying men; 
Dying in anticipation 

Of a night of endless gloom. 
Seeing not the hope that glimmers 

Through the darkness of the tomb. 

But that knock has come to waken 

From the sleep of ages past, 
And we enter at the doorway 

Of the house of God at last. 
As we wait within the portal 

We behold the dawning light 
Faintly shining through the curtain 

Of the temple of the night. 

lyo! the night is nearly ended. 

Day has set his seal on high; 
Broader grows the flush of crimson 

Over all the future's sky. 
Superstition, wrong and error 

Flee before the rising morn. 
Nature wakes to join the chorus. 

On this day the truth was born. 

29 



YOUTH, HEALTH AND LOVE. 

In rosy morn from out ni)' door I gazed, 

And lo! I saw a path all strewn with flowers: 
And said, with swelling heart, "now God be praised, 

The fairest way in this fair world of ours 
Is mine to tread. No sorrow lurks beside; 

But on I'll go from golden day to day, 
With Youth, and Health, and Love, my willing bride, 

And fairer scenes shall open all the way." 

We sallied forth. The day was young and bright; 

Sweet youth went with us up the first ascent; 
We bravely toiled, but thorns, concealed from sight, 

Did pierce our feet and hands as on we went. 
Then Youth forsook me, ever fickle Youth! 

But what cared I since Health and lyove remained ? 
I waved good-by, and said, which was the truth. 

That I had lost far less than I had gained. 

But now the path, devoid of flowers or shade, 

L,ed through the glare and dust of busy marts, 
Where clanging hoofs and grinding wheels of trade 

Drive ever over quivering human hearts; 
Or through dim halls, where, motionless and pale, 

lyike statues sit, from weary day to day, 
The sons of toil; here Health began to fail, 

And drooped and died, and dropped beside the way. 

30 



YOUTH, HEALTH AND LOVE. 

But Love remains through dark vicissitude, 

And murmurs not, though Youth and Health are gone. 
The hour grows late, the winds are cold and rude, 

The sky o'ercast, but still we journey on. 
No accident can e'er our progress stay; 

We were, we are, and we shall ever be. 
Though Youth and Health and all may pass away. 

Our path leads on throughout eternity. 



31 



DAY-DREAMS. 

We have dreamed of fame and glory, 
We have dreamed of feats sublime; 

And wished a name to live in story, 
Sounding down the aisles of time. 

We have fought the fight of anguish, 
We have battled long with sin; 

Many foes without, we've vanquished, 
And a mightier foe within. 

All of life is incompleteness; 

All of youth has passed away; 
Precious few the drops of sweetness 

We have found beside the wa)'. 

Now and then the sunbeams straying, 
All the joys of heaven bring; 

Here and there a fount is playing, 
Here and there the sweet birds sing. 

We may say in aimless living 
That we bow to God's behest. 

We may tire of constant striving, 
We may find no place of rest. 



32 



DA Y-DREAMS. 

Yet a dream we ever cherish, 
That beyond this vale of tears, 

Waits a beauty that shall perish 
Nevermore, through all the years. 

Courage take for great endeavor, 
Doubt it not, this truth sublime, 

That throughout the long forever 

Stretch the heights that we must climb. 



83 



MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT. 

When morning comes to deck the east 

With brightenino hues of red and gold; 
When, like one bidden to the feast, 
I see new glories quick unfold; 
The rising day to me is sweet, 
For at its close we two shall meet. 

When noon is high o'er all the land — 
The joyous land of bud and bloom; 
When flowers smile on every hand 
To banish all my thoughts of gloom; 
As turns the flower unto the sun, 
I turn to you, my chosen one. 

When evening shadows gather near 

And wild birds seek the sheltering tree; 
When in the skies the stars appear 
To tell their tales of constancy, 
No stars I need to light my skies 
For light that beams from your dear eyes. 

When comes the night of holy calm, 

With thoughts of you my dreams are blest; 
And in that land of sleep and balm 
My head is pillowed on your breast; — 
I start and wake; dark night I see, 
Until you smile again on me. 

34 



THE JOURNEY OF LIFE. 

Through a land that was beautiful, smiling and glad. 
Once methoui^ht I was journeying, lonely and sad; 
For the way that I travelled, oh, sad is the tale! 
Had a wall on ea:h side which I never could scale. 

And as weary I walked in the dust and the heat, 

I could see on the hillside a shady retreat; 

But my feet could not stray, although great was my need, 

And the pain of my journey seemed bitter indeed. 

For my brain was afire with the heat and the thirst 
And the veins of my temples seemed ready to burst, 
I had wandered s<^) far, I had suffered it all 
For the things that now mocked me, just over the wall. 

There were flowers and bowers, and fruit of the vine 
And the peoples' glad song as they pressed out the wine; 
There was gold of the orange and bloom of the peach 
To tempt me and taunt me, just out of my reach. 

Some would pause in their work in those gardens so fair, 
And would carelessly cast on the traveller there 
A kind look of compassion, of pit)^ I thought, 
And a word to encourage, my straining ear caught. 

3.5 



THE JOURNEY OF LIFE. 

Oh, 'twas hard, in the sight of those bowers of bliss, 
To be toiling along on a journey like this; 
Far behind was but sorrow, and joy that was dead. 
Far away in the future the dreary way led. 

Had I heard not the songs of the singers that wrought, 
Had I never a sound of their loving words caught, 
Had I seen not the flowers and fruitage so rare 
I had known not the pangs of a hopeless despair. 

'Tis the sight of the gladness while walking in gloom, 
'Tis the beauty that borders the path to the tomb. 
Casts the shadow that falls o'er the terrible strife 
Where the soul is athirst for the waters of life. 

'Tis, O mortal wayfarer, no fancy I see, — 
'Tis a journey that's travelled by you and by me: 
In the sight of the joys that our spirits would share 
Do we grope in the dust and the gloom of despair. 

Do we trust at the end there is rest for the soul ? 
'Tis a hope that enlivens and brightens the whole. 
It is all that we have, 'tis our refuge in need, 
For deprive us of this and we perish indeed. 



36 



THE LOVELY DEAD. 

The form of grace, the sparkling eye, 
The heart that beat with pleasure; 

Fell fate decreed that she should die, 
Our child, our countless treasure. 

The fairest gem vouchsafed to earth 
Returned to God the keeper; 

No song of joy, no sound of mirth 
Can wake the loveh' sleeper. 

The saddened home, the sacred tomb, 

The shadows lifted never, 
A darker night, a deeper gloom 

Is on my soul forever. 



37 



THE DAY'S ADVANCE. 

Where the wild Atlantic surges beat the cliffs of 'Quoddy 
Head, 
O'er the ocean dim and distant first appeared the rising 
day; 
Then the mists, dispersed and scattered by the shafts the 
morning shed, 
Fled along the sounding headlands toward the isles of 
Casco Bay. 

Over inland, hill and river, to the far Aroostook wild, 
Flashed the message of the morning, "L,o the day is 
born again!" 
Streamlets laughed, and lakes of silver in the face of 
heaven smiled, 
While the pine-tree and the hemlock whispered back 
the glad refrain. 

Up the stretches of Penobscot, past the Indian's cabin 
lone, 
From the brows of old Katahdin gleamed the light of 
glorious day, 
And from Moosehead's mighty waters rose the mists of 
morning, blown 
Toward the riotous Androscoggin thundering down 
his rocky way. 

38 



THE DAY'S ADVANCE. 

Westward still the hosts of morning, speeding on the 
wings of light, 
Enter not the slumbering forest where the shades are 
dark and deep. 
But they climb with noiseless footsteps o'er the moun- 
tain's dizzy height, 
L,eap across the smiling valleys with a grand, majestic 
sweep. 

O'er the lordly Hudson flashing, soon to leave it far 
behind. 
Then to span Niagara's chasm with a crescent many- 
hued; 
Over inland sea and prairie, faster than the truant 
wind. 
Is the march of day triumphant through the desert 
solitude. 

Tarry not, O bright Evangel, in those deserts lone and 
bare. 
Bring the message to thy children on the far Pacific's 
shore; 
We behold thy signs appearing through the night of 
our despair, 
And we watch thy glorious coming as we never watch- 
before. 

We are brothers — we are brothers of the stalwart sons 
of Maine, — 
We would clasp our hands in concord o'er the nation 
of our dreams. 
With no lord upon her highway and no serf upon her 
plain, 
When the golden gate is closing on the day's departing 
beams. 

39 



DINNER. 

O, sweetest sound that greets the ear! 
The fire bell striking loud and clear, 
And hurried tramp of horses' feet 
In the engine house across the street; 
O, blessed hour for one and all 
To hear the cook's inviting call: 
"Dinner!" 

Within that mansion grand and lone, 
Where Want, the spectre, is not known; 
Where silver plate and mirror blaze 
With many a light's reflected rays. 
At day's decline they gather round 
In answer to that magic sound: 
"Dinner!" 

By dusty road, by iron rail. 
Beside the desert's dreary trail, 
In shady bower, by farm-yard gate. 
The weary hobos congregate 
To share what luck may chance to brin| 
For their repast, and call the thing 
"Dinner!" 

O, ye who dine from costly plate. 
Scorn not your brother at the gate; 
Throughout a life of selfish ease 
What have ye done for such as these ? 

40 



DINNER. 

Do ye, when shades of evening fall, 
Extend to them the welcome call: 
"Dmner?" 

Then prate no more of Christian faith, 
Nor build your hopes on Him who saith, 
"Unto the least," the outcast poor. 
Who, hungering wait beside your door. 
But do the deeds He would have done, 
And say to every starving one: 
"Dinner!" 



41 



REACH ME YOUR HAND. 

Reach me your hand, down from the heights serene, 

Where you today secure and smiling stand; 
While winds blow cold and night comes o'er the scene, 
Through shadows dark and yawning gulf between — 
Reach me your hand. 

Reach me your hand, when hope is almost gone; 

I've wandered far across life's desert sand, 
But now to see you in the glorious dawn 
Away to turn, and sadly journey on — 

Reach me your hand. 

Reach me your hand, I cannot wander far. 

For here the light is flooding all the land; 
While otherwhere the deepening shadows are. 
And hopeless night, a night without a star. 
Reach me your hand. 

Reach me your hand, I will not go away, 

I'll climb the heights my longing eyes have scanned, 
No more through rough and devious paths to stray, 
And while we wait to greet the coming day 

Reach me your hand. 

42 



REACH ME YOUR HAND. 

Reach me your hand, the light is come at last, 

The hills of morn, by freshening breezes fanned. 
Rejoice together. Night and gloom are past, 
Behold the da^'! The day is coming fast — 
Reach me your hand. 



43 



SPRING ON SANTA CATALINA. 

The winter passed with wind and rain, 
And fitful scenes of shade and light. 
The mists came drifting off the main, 
And loud I heard the waves complain 
Upon the lonely shore at night. 

Full oft I watched the flymg bark 

That labored through the crested waves. 

When night was falling drear and dark. 

With not a star or light to mark 

Where yawned the sailors' watery graves. 

And ere the dawn of one sad day, 

I know the spot, upon the reef, 
Where, in the rocks and dashing spray 
By treacherous currents borne away. 

The good ship struck, and came to grief. 

The cruel waves upon her cast 

A crushing weight of waters then; 
The cruel rocks, they held her fast. 
Away went shroud and spar and mast 
And clinging forms of drowning men. 



44 



SPRING ON SANTA CATALINA. 

Another picture comes the while; 

The sun returns to cheer and bless, 
The tempest stilled, the waters smile, 
And over all th' enchanted isle 

The flowers feel the spring's caress. 

And bursting forth in beauty rare 

A wealth of golden poppies spread, 
As if the sunbeams, passing fair, 
Were well content to linger there 
Upon each floweret's modest head. 

And all the sounds that come to me 

Are call of quail from canyon lone, 
The waters murmuring toward the sea, 
The whispering breeze within the tree. 
And lapse of wave o'er shell and stone. 

Oh, fairer than a poet's dream. 

The flowering land, the flowing sea! 
For brighter skies could never beam, 
And brighter waves could never gleam 
Upon the sands, eternally. 



45 



OUR CASTLE IN SPAIN. 

In the glorious time of our youthful prime 

When unk lovv.i was the shadow of pain, 
And the world was ours with its birds and flowers 

We builded our castle in Spain. 
The walls they were jasper, the towers were gold, 

The windows looked over the sea; 
But alas! Those windows are dark and cold, 

And cold and dark shall they be. 

No tire is alight on the hearth at night, 

No music is heard in the hall, 
While the spectral trees as the}^ sway in the breeze 

Are tappiui^ at window and wall; 
And bleak desolation is reigning supreme 

Where gladness did only abide, 
For no one can live in this place it would seem 

Since the lord of the castle has died. 

Yes, I died long ago in the night of m)^ woe 

When they bore a young bride from the door, 
And my body with her's is at rest 'neath the firs 

On the cliff by the storm-beaten shore. 
But at night when the moon, rising over the glen. 

Looks in at the desolate pane 
There are strange sights and sounds, for we wander again 

Through the halls of our castle in Spain. 

46 



NINETEEN HUNDRED. 

Nineteen hundred, magic spell, 

I can read tliy meaning well; 

I can see or seem to see 

All the fate that waits for thee, 

And my heart, though strong and brave, 

Falters that I may not save 

Friends and brothers true and leal 

From the conflict and ordeal. 

But thy lioroscope is clear. 
Year of fate and fateful year. 
We have waited long for thee. 
Crowning year of destiny. 
We have seen thy star arise 
Ivike a promise through the skies, 
And our hearts expectant beat 
Till thy reign shall be complete. 

Ere we see thy dawning day 

Thrones may pass in fire away 

Ermine robe and golden crown 

In the dust be trampled down. 

All its useless hoard of gold 

Wealth with trembling hands shall hold. 

Crouching in its gilded home, 

Eo! the judgment day is come. 

47 



NINETEEN HUNDRED. 

Gold! accursed of tongue and pen; 
Gold! despair of toiling men; 
Gold! the power behind the throne, 
Gold is evil, gold alone. 
Haste the day when gold shall be 
Banished with plutocracjM 
Year of fate and fateful year. 
Nineteen Hundred draweth near. 



48 



FROM AIY SCRAP-BOOK. 

Come with me apart from the maddeniiiiL; throng 

And cool in the soft summer twilight recline, 
While I read you my treasures of poetry and song 

That I've hoarded for years in this scrap-book of mine. 
They are culled as the choicest and fairest of ilowers 

That have bloomed by the side of my wearisome way, 
And the comfort and solace of many lone hours 

Do I owe to the gems that I bring you today. 

They will whisper of hope when the future looks dreary 

And deep are the shadows that darken your way; 
They will tell you of rest when the spirit is wear^^ 

Oppressed by the burden and heat of the day. 
So, great is my treasure and fain would I share it, 

'Twill make it not less to divide it with you; 
No burden so heavy but that we may bear it 

When comforted, strengthened and yiided anew. 

Here's a story of love, 'tis so touching and tender 

I fear if I read it youi eyes will o'erflow, 
And j^et, all the wealth of its beaut}' and splendor. 

And feeling sublime, I would have you to know. 
But if, in the reading, when utterance fail me, 

I come to an end ere the story be through. 
As the strong tides of feeling rise up and assail me, 

You'll call me not weak and unworthy of you. 

49 



FROM MY SCRAP-BOOK. 

For the story I read is the one that has trembled 

Full oft on my lips in the days that have passed; 
But I feared I would shatter the dream, and dissembled, 

And sought to conceal it from you to the last. 
But tenderly, sweetly, the words of the poet 

Have opened the portal to feelinj^s divine. 
And you understand, for your beaming eyes show it, 

And thankful am I for this scrap-book of mine. 



50 



THE ANGEL'S VISIT. 

In our chamber, scant and meager, 

Lay m}^ friend; I watched beside. 
Waiting patiently, yet eager 

For the turn of life's low tide. 
Midnight came, no sound or motion 

In the dim, uncertain light: 
Would this bark on life's broad ocean 

Reach its port this fateful night ? 

Oh, the thought my spirit maddened! 

All my life were chaos then, 
Only bittered, crushed and saddened 

By the dreams of what had been. 
Up I sprang with imprecations — 

Threw my window open wide, 
There to still my brow's pulsations 

In the night's all-healing tide. 

Pit3nng skies were bending o'er me. 

Faithful stars their vigils kept, 
Wide the world outspread before me 

Where the weary mortals slept. 
Ah, but hark! a sound appealing. 

From a mansion lone and far, 
On the waves of silence stealing 

Notes of viol and guitar. 

51 



THE ANGEL'S VISIT. 

From the halis of wealth and splendor 

Came those melodies divine, 
Touched my soul with pathos tender 

In that poor retreat of mine. 
And I said, "O, angel, brooding 

O'er this couch I hold so dear, 
Enter not, thy form intruding. 

Come not near! oh, come not near! " 

But my prayer was unavailing, 

For within my humble room, 
Robed in garments dark and trailing, 

Moved a Shape of stately gloom; 
Waved its hand and beckoned to me, 

I could choose not but obe}^ 
With a subt p^war it drew me 

And I questioned not the waj^ 

Silently, to my amazement, 

This dark presence guiding me. 
Out we floated through the casement. 

Toward the halls of revelry. 
With the merrj^ dancers speeding 

Through the mazes, in and out. 
They unknowing or unheeding 

That we joined the festive rout. 

" Let not care and sorrow darkle 

Hearts that burn with youth's bright fires, 
Lips that smile and eyes that sparkle, 

Breasts that heave with love's desires. 

52 



THE ANGEL'S VISIT. 

Gloom and sadness leave till morrow, 
Banish grief with tuneful tread; 

Joy is fleeting, grasp it; sorrow 
Lingers when all else is fled. 

So we wound the dreamy measures 

While the viols sobbed and wept, 
Till, despite those fleeting pleasures, 

In my heart a horror crept! 
Then the vision from me flitting, 

Left me in the morning chill; 
By my window I was sitting 

With my head upon the sill. 

Sudden fear my heart appalling. 

Up I started from the spot; 
By the bedside kneeling, calling 

To the form that answered not. 
Nothing more the pale lips uttered, 

Stilled for aye the faltering breath. 
For the soul had outward fluttered 

On the sable wings of Death. 



53 



Go, little book, with right good will, 

Upon thine errand sent; 
Maj^ God forbid thou bearest ill 

Where only good is meant. 

To render less the load of care, 

The weight of human woe, 
To whisper hope to wan despair,— 

For this I bid thee go. 

And if thou brought some sw^eet return 

Of kindly thought or deed, 
If friendship's fires should brighter burn, 

Oh! that were blest indeed. 



54 







;-* «> ^^ o< 






^ 




'^^ 


0^ 




^-^ 


°^ 


o 







C, vP 






-'^ ^^ ... ^-^ 



'\/ 















